Unconventional

Together we flew over the bar, and through the curtain. Down a ratty hallway and past the kitchen, to where Noah had already shouldered his way through a very cheap door.

The man on the other side had copper hair and sharp red sideburns. He was caught barefoot, wearing long boxers and a sleeveless white T-shirt that showed off his freckled arms. He had a tough look and an even tougher snarl fixed on his face as he glowered back at us over his shoulder.

But his eyes were scared.

In that single moment, all charisma and bravado was gone. There was a base fear beneath the shell of hostility he kept around him, and I could see his hands trembling as he reached for the push-bar on a hidden back door.

The door opened. Killian flew halfway through it, still looking back, still watching as the four of us hurtled into his office, shoving chairs and table aside as we all rushed him together.

Then a fist connected with his face, and he went down like a sack of bricks.

When he looked up again, Chase was towering over him. Shaking the pain out of the hand that he’d just used to punch him out.

“Hello Killian.”

Fifty-Four

CHASE

He looked very small and insignificant, lying there in his underwear. Curled in a semi-fetal position, holding his face with both hands.

“Hello Killian.”

God, it was so fucking satisfying. To finally have him like this, alone. The coward who’d been hiding behind his whole pack of assholes, dealing out beatings by order. Burning our home down. Having others do his dirty work.

“Now GET UP.”

Julian reached down at the same time I did, and together we hoisted him to his feet. Killian didn’t struggle. He was more limp than anything, and shaking with fear.

“What’s that smell?” asked Noah.

“He’s pissed himself.”

I looked down, and it was true. It both disgusted and satisfied me at the same time.

Killian said nothing as we dumped him into the nearest couch. His nose was definitely croo

ked, maybe shattered. He was bleeding all over the place.

“Here.”

Julian tossed him something that looked like a towel, but turned out to be Killian’s shirt. He used it anyway, bunching it up and bringing it to his nose.

“It’s about time we had a talk,” I said, squatting before him. I brought myself to his level. Got right up in his face, so he’d understand.

“This?” I said, pointing a finger between him, me, and Noah. “This is over. It’s done. No more.”

I saw him snarl beneath the bunched up shirt, but that’s all he did. Noah made a quick move toward him on purpose, just to watch him flinch.

“This man owed you some money,” said Julian. “And you could’ve gotten paid. You could’ve waited it out, or given him a break, or any of those things.” The huge mason shifted, clenching two big fists. “Instead, you went on the attack. You beat on him when he came to talk to you. You burned his home to the ground in the dead of night, like a gutless fucking coward.”

Killian was sitting silently, his eyes darting everywhere. They kept going to the door, hoping someone would show up. Hoping one or more of his men would come rushing through, to help him out of this nightmare.

The only thing he saw were Julian’s two big friends, guarding the door.

“You’re a psycho,” Noah chimed in. “Only a fucking psycho does shit like that, over nothing more than a gambling debt.”

Killian finally opened his mouth, as if to say something. One hard look from the three of us caused him to wisely shut it.